Maybe my words are filled with smoke
But the regret is soaked
As my pride is soaked
These words occasionally croak
Sometimes my thinking is as hard as pine oak
Don't you ever feel like that again
I'm at fault
I'm going to be corgal with your emotions
Because I never should of hurt you in the first place
I'll bury all my frustrations and aggravation
Like it was the casualties of my own army
It's not easy to farm me
I have a rigid spirit
That can be ignorant at times
The past speaks the volume of my speakers for me.
It takes one to know one.